


Where People Are Bad At Feelings

by yunhaiiro



Series: DA Shared Universe [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunhaiiro/pseuds/yunhaiiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kwerkus and Zevran have been fighting. Again. Alistair doesn't even know if he wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where People Are Bad At Feelings

It was one of the bad days.

They were scarce, but they were bad enough that they casted a shadow over the entire camp.

Kwerkus and Zevran had had an (unusually) public and (as usual) increasingly loud argument. The first to notice had been Alistair. He had looked over the pair of them, away from the campfire, whispering. Zevran had his winning smile plastered on his face, which could only mean trouble, and Kwerkus had an arched eyebrow, which could only mean _worse_ trouble.

He decided, firmly, to stay out of it.

Sure enough, after a while, whispers had become barely concealed shouts while everyone tried really hard to look away.

Malia had tried to appeal to diplomacy, but it had earned her such a glare from both of them that she reeled back, muttering about preferring to break a fight between two warhounds that get in the middle of that.

Kwerkus had called Zevran a "fenedhis", which no one was really sure what it was but sounded bad. Zevran, after a beat, had retaliated saying that he wasn't the easiest person to be around, either. Kwerkus stared at him with a blank expression, said "Not even Dirthamen could understand you", turned around and walked away.

Walked away to where Alistair was, actually, and he had a brief instant of panic when Kwerkus sat (more like threw himself to the ground) at his side. He didn't know what to say.

Luckily, it seemed like he wanted nothing more than companionable silence. That he could do.

Zevran had stayed where he had been the whole time. He had also sat down and had turned to look away at the forest, arms crossed.

Little by little, the silence lifted up and everyone started talking again, in their scattered groups. Leliana, Malia and Wynne were chatting amiably, though there were a lot of head shakes and sighs of exasperation. Oghren went to Zevran's side, cautiously, but he just batted a hand in dismissal when Oghren tried to talk to him. He still remained there, however.

Shale and Morrigan were in their usual spots, looking unexpressive and faintly amused, respectively.

And Alistair was looking at Kwerkus, who was still silent as a tomb, feeling increasingly inadequate.

He had to say something. It was starting to make his skin itch.

"Do you..."

"Don't."

Well, that went well.

Kwerkus looked over at him from the corner of his eye, and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"It's fine."

It was most definitely not fine.

While he thought of what else to say, Kwerkus slowly tipped over until he was leaning on his shoulder.

"Guess I just have bad taste," he said, with the smallest dry smile.

"Should've picked better. Why care for an assassin when you have a dashing Grey Warden right here?" Jokes were alright, weren't they? He hoped so.

A beat passed. Kwerkus looked up at him again.

"Yeah, should've gone with that."

Alistair laughed. Nervously. It was still a joke, right?

Then Kwerkus looked him up and down and ended up staring at his chest. He pushed himself off Alistair's shoulder.

"Get your shirt off," he said, matter-of-factly.

"WHAT."

His shout made everyone look over at them and he regretted it instantly.

"Get. Your shirt. Off," Kwerkus repeated, like he was talking to a small kid.

"No, I heard you the first time, I meant, why?!"

Kwerkus pointed at his shirt, on the chest, right above the heart. Alistair craned his neck back to see what... oh, a hole the size of his thumb. Then Kwerkus pointed out another at his side, over the ribs, and another...

Alistair looked sheepish.

"You're a disaster."

Couldn't refute that.

"Get it off and I'll mend it. Need the distraction, anyway."

Couldn't exactly say no to that either. Wynne had gotten tired of mending his shirts for him and he was afraid to even ask. And doing it himself... well, not an option.

So he waited while Kwerkus went to his tent to come back with a little wooden box (turns out he even had a sewing kit. Alistair was almost impressed) and then took his shirt off and handed it to him. Kwerkus got to work at once.

Malia had approached them, curious, and was watching Kwerkus intently. Alistair crossed his arms over his bare chest and tried to look as if he wasn't there.

Without even looking up, Kwerkus tossed his cape to him.

"Cover yourself before the lady faints."

That earned him a soft kick to the back from Malia, but they were both smiling.

Malia crouched down at his side.

"I didn't know you could sew."

"We make our own clothes at the clan," he offered, as sole explanation.

"That sounds better than having to learn the difference between a backstitch and a split stitch. And spending the day embroidering flowers into pillows."

"Suppose it is," then he raised his voice "Do you want flowers embroidered in the shirt, Alistair? I think they would suit you."

Alistair, burrowed into the cape, ignored him. He wasn't gonna get dragged into that conversation. He could learn _some_ lessons, thank you.

So he stayed in silence while Malia and Kwerkus chatted away.

At the other side of the camp, Zevran was trying very hard to make it look as if he wasn't stealing glances at them. He looked miserable.

_Maybe_ , Alistair thought, _I could go and talk- No. No, I'm staying out of that. For my sanity._

The next morning Zevran got out of Kwerkus's tent (though the elf himself was nowhere to be seen. Probably out hunting or wherever he went when he woke up before any of them) and said good morning to everyone with a big smile, so he supposed all was well.

He surprised himself hoping for it to last.


End file.
